Long Ciel Poems

Translation of the Elegy: On Marceline Desbordes-Valmore - À L'amour - Poem by Marcel Moreau Translated by T. Wignesan

Reprends de ce bouquet les trompeuses couleurs,      (Take back the dubious colours...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s A Faithful Private 7 with excerpts from “Notes on Poetics” by T. Wignesan

(Note: With this post, I bring to a close EM’s pamphlet collection: Faithful Private, GENERA editions by Colin Simms,...

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Italian version. (continued from first part)
Tale è l’orror  che assale la mia mente
Di quanto ho visto e rivissuto prima
Da ridurla al silenzio più opprimente.
Pian piano poi risal verso la cima
Creando ancora immagini e illusioni
Senza...

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 Translation of Eric Mottram’s A Faithful Private - 1 by T. Wignesan

                      ...

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Claquée j’ai quitté mon lit douillé 
J’ai peur de sombrer dans ma tête souillée 
Dans mes rêves je suis toujours exilée 
Je n’ai jamais trouvé le sommeil espéré  
J’ai savouré le mal qui me...

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Ancora in sogno vaga la mia mente
Nell’ignoto esplorando come Ulisse
Quando uno squarcio si apre immantinente.
Un uomo curvo col cappuccio nero
Che in tempi oscuri per la chiesa visse
Mi si rivolge in modo triste e altero.
“Per evitar...

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She wades in until the water reaches her waist,
looks out and continues into the endless sea.
Her imagined long gown floats behind her.

Her little girl shoulder blades 
become hidden beneath the water.
Each time she raises her...

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No one in this morning
The road is deserted,
It's too early under the gray sky,

The veins of my hands,
Salient hands on the wheel
The look Elevated

The white line scrolls,
The colored houses, fled,
Since the curves crossed,

Creeks glimpsed,
The white...

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If the book is too heavy,
and low light,
Then I close my eyes
on the show pages.

What happens in it?
I do not know yet
that reserve
detours of history.

It takes place without me.
These are secret stories
which other
can access.

Meanwhile here...

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Ton nom - New English Translation of Amel Bent's song "Your Name" by T. Wignesan

Je me raccroche aux détails du passé
Details of our past I cannot unclasp 
?Nos souvenirs le sourire aux lèvres
A smile steals...

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Baby GG is in the house
Born in beautiful month of March
Between winter and spring
No snow was on the dry grass
Gorgeous buds were emerging
And a new rainbow is on the arch.

Baby GG is indeed in the...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s PEACE PROJECT 9 - le Projet de la paix 9 by T. Wignesan

…………………..Comme gel sous l’eau noire, sommeil fatale, crapaud.  
………..’Sade’ - Le Marteau sans Maître - (René) Char

la laideur...

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I can’t stop thinking,
That the earth is round, round
Like African women,
That the seagulls are white,
That dogs are crazy,
They bark at poets, writers,

I can’t stop thinking,
That the sun is a guitar
Who plays in the summer, in...

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I write only for you,
Not for the king, so smart,
Not for Paris,
Not for the mirrors of the sky,
I only write for you.

I do not write for the abbot
Who weeps before God,
I don’t write for the...

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Ce sont de grosse perles tombées à l'envi du paradis,
Grain à grain, plus luisantes que tout superbe satin.
Leur fraîcheur et délicatesse proviennent du séraphin,
Qui dit: jamais ses qualités ne deviendront ni taries ni décaties.
Tant qu'il...

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The sun plunged
In the space of silence,
The summer has been extended
In a slow wandering ...

The orb has been drunk,
Gradually, by fringes.
> We did not hear anything,
From the fall of the angel ...

The horizon has folded...

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Kind and nice lady,
We are not eternal,
Not you, not me, not them,
Hurry to love me,

Marie Gaëlle,
We are not eternal,
Not you, not me, not them
Hurry to think about it,

Little mom,
We are not eternal,
Not you, not me,...

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Beatrice: Riguardi verso l'omorose some
                 che alma ea portando e antitìpe
        ...

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(La ballade de) La femme Woor – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “The Woor Woman” by T. Wignesan

Le chasseur Bhoori demandit de la colline,
Puisque le ciel à l’ouest était de rouge,
Et le monde entier devenait triste...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s The Cat Sat on the Mat, La chatte s’est assise sur la natte by T. Wignesan

(Unless I’m sorely mistaken, this’s EM’s first published poem: Poetry Magazine/Poetry Foundation, Chicago, February 1959, pp....

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Femme, femme que j’aimais tant
Oh ! Il y a plusieurs printemps
Qu’il faisait beau temps
Et le vent sifflait lestement bas et lent
Oh ! Femme, tu fus jeune, pétillante et forte
Mignonne, maintenant, tu es morte
Tu es couchée...

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I don’t know if owning a beautiful home,
Facing the sea, makes happy,
There are people who do not manage their thoughts,
And that makes them dangerous,

There are people who are convinced
That the Eiffel Tower is the center...

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I write the sadness of the Brazilian forests, 
About modern centuries and glass cities,
Tattooed Indians who are murdered too,
For a handle of gold or green diamond,

I write the greatness of Brazilian forests
Roots that descend to...

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Mama has left
She is no longer alive
She left Mother Earth
She is in the cemetery
Mom is further on
She is, here and there, really
Mother is gone
And no longer here
With us, under the sun
Mommy is in Heaven
She looks...

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Only birds tell the truth,
They hear our little fears
And lay them in their nests,
They know when we cry
And tell all their friends, in heaven,

Only birds tell the truth,
Better than the great poets, 
Better than the...

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